Spring Fever
by JDPhoenix
Summary: He wanted her. She was filthy and wrong and all he could think about was taking her right here on the grass of the Quidditch pitch.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I in any way associated with, Harry Potter. I'm just taking the characters out for a spin.

AN: This is a seventh year AU. Everything through OotP happened but since then the timeline veers off sharply. Also, this will probably only be a light M so don't get your hopes up for any hard kink.

**Spring Fever**

It's spring fever. That is what the name of it is. And when you've got it, you want - oh, you don't quite know what it is you _do_ want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!  
>~Mark Twain<p>

Chapter 1

"I'm sure you all remember these lovelies," Professor Sprout said, gesturing to three flourishing rows of plants. Their wide leaves glistened in the sunlight and every few seconds one of the stalks would shudder and shift position.

The class, recognizing mandrakes from their second year, groaned. Even Neville looked distressed by today's lesson. Hermione tried to nonchalantly scoot closer to him while Professor Sprout outlined the day's task and necessary safety procedures. Neville usually preferred to partner with her, Seamus, or Parvati - the only three other Gryffindors in what had, in their seventh year, become an all-house Herbology class - but today she wasn't about to take any chances. Neville had a green thumb that easily made up for any amount of reading Hermione could do on the subject and she wasn't about to be stuck with anyone else today.

Professor Sprout called for them to break up into pairs when Hermione was still three feet from Neville, not far in the grand scheme of things but far enough that if he turned in the other direction she'd lose her chance. She fairly leapt at him, reaching for his arm to grab his attention. Something caught her ankle and she felt her feet fly out from under her. With one arm still up, reaching for Neville, she could only catch herself on her left. It wasn't nearly enough to support her and she fell face first into a batch of wormwart.

"Hermione!" Neville cried and several sets of hands hurried to help her up. Familiar snickering sounded behind her. Ernie and Seamus were cursing, fighting against those students who had rushed to hold them back. The moment Hermione was on her feet, Parvati had to abandon her to hold Neville back as well. Hermione staggered, still not quite steady, starting a new round of laughter from the Slytherin quarter.

"_**Silence!**_" Sprout thundered. Everything stopped. The smiles on the Slytherin faces froze, waving fists fell limp, yelled threats cut off mid-stream, even the mandrakes stopped their shuddering. Down the hill a hippogriff whinnied in confusion and Hermione winced. She had no doubt Hagrid's entire third year class was looking up at the seventh year Herbology students right now.

"Are you all right, dear?" Sprout asked gently, brushing dust from Hermione's shoulders.

Hermione nodded, forcing her left arm to lower. It hurt like hell but she wasn't about to give the Slytherins the satisfaction of sending her to the hospital wing.

Sprout, satisfied that she would live, nodded tersely and turned to the class at large. "Seven years," she said, loudly enough that there was no doubt she wanted those third years at Hagrid's to hear every word. "Seven years you have lived together, worked together, studied together-"

"She doesn't know much about house dividing lines, does she?" Seamus muttered in Hermione's ear. She gave him a pained half-smile over her shoulder.

"-and yet you still act like a bunch of ignorant, intolerant first years. I never thought I would see the day when I had to punish an entire class of seventh years, mere weeks away from matriculation."

It was almost worth it to see the mutinous looks Malfoy's fellow Slytherins shot his way when they heard this news.

Sprout began calling out pairs of names. That alone was a punishment, she hadn't forced team assignments on them since third year, but no pair had students in the same house. In fact, it seemed Sprout was pairing students with who she thought they'd hate the most. Even the Hufflepuffs, known for their ability to let bygones be bygones in the face of a job to do, were paired with their worst enemies - everyone knew Ernie had hated Trent Harker from Ravenclaw ever since Trent stole his date at the Yule Ball. If a Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw couldn't get along, what hope did the rest of them have?

Sprout's eyes fell on the final four students and Hermione cringed. There was no way this would end well. The professor saw Hermione's distress and gave her an apologetic grimace before calling out, "Longbottom with Greengrass. Malfoy with Granger. You have now wasted a quarter of your time for what is a very delicate job. Do not think I won't keep you late if you don't finish!"

No one dared bemoan this pronouncement, instead they broke into their teams and set to work on the mandrakes. Hermione was forced to jog to catch up with Malfoy. He had already grabbed their pot and was moodily pushing his way through the crowd to the bed. She knelt on the ground beside him and began helping to pull the day's necessary tools from the pot.

"Don't touch me!" he hissed when she reached for the spade at the same time he did.

"Don't you think you're being a bit childish?" she asked, keeping her voice low so Sprout wasn't likely to hear. "You're wearing gloves for heaven's sake!"

"I suppose you don't need any," Malfoy said, noting her bare hands, "no point keeping you skin clean when your blood's already filthy."

"Earmuffs!" Sprout called.

Hermione gladly pulled a fuzzy blue pair from the pot and stuck them down tight over her ears. Malfoy smiled triumphantly, having gotten the final word in. Hermione glared, promising she'd have more to say later.

Not being able to talk did not stop their mutual antagonism. Each of Malfoy's digs in the dirt was as small as possible, forcing her to do more work. When Sprout's back was turned Hermione retaliated by throwing dirt up towards Malfoy's face with every dig. He sputtered and coughed and tried to wipe the dirt off with his filthy gloves. The sun beating down had them all sweating and when Malfoy finally gave up, his face was streaked with dirt and his bangs were muddy. Dust sat in a thin layer atop his hair, making him look like he'd rolled around in the dirt. He glared murder at her. He might not have been able to see himself just then but he was too much of a peacock not to know when he was looking poorly.

Hermione giggled, not even bothering to hold it back and began digging in the dirt closest to the root with her fingers, not wanting to damage the mandrake with the spade. She wished she had her gloves right now but they'd met with an unfortunate end last week when the rare Doradan Blood-Boiler they were studying grabbed her fingers. She'd been able to pull the gloves off before the acid coating the vines ate through the dragon hide to reach her skin, but the gloves had been a lost cause. She'd ordered a new pair but there was a backlog of her preferred brand due to Viktor Krum's recent endorsement. She knew she never should have told him how much she loved them.

"Ow!" she cried, pulling her hands back from the mandrake. Heedless of the dirt covering her skin she instinctively put her aching finger in her mouth and tasted iron. The little brat had broken the skin! The mandrake laughed manically - or looked like he was - and waved its arms gleefully about.

"Nice one," Hermione saw Draco say. He held up a hand for the mandrake to give him five, which the little beast did happily.

Hermione saw red. Malfoy had already purposefully injured her today and now he was laughing at an injury she wouldn't be suffering from if he'd just done his fair share of the work! Her pain lessened in the face of her anger and she reached out to slap his extended arm. He'd rolled his sleeves up in the heat and she felt the satisfying give of his skin under her nails. He recoiled instantly, clutching his arm and looking at her like he'd never seen her before.

She ignored his wide-eyed stare and got back to work. By now the mandrake was laughing so hard it was rolling around in the dirt. Hermione used its distraction to grab it by the stalk emerging from the top of its head and drop it unceremoniously into the pot. It was definitely one of the adolescent mandrakes they were supposed to be on the lookout for and needed to be removed from the general population or it'd band together with other adolescents and throw wild parties where they sucked all the juice from the ergundy melons in the next bed over and ended up passed out on the lakeshore.

After several minutes of rage-filled work while adrenaline burned through Hermione's system, Malfoy began helping. He wasn't happy about it, that much was obvious, but the way he never quite looked at her told her she'd actually frightened him a bit. That, and his tie wrapped tight around his arm just above his glove had her in a good mood for the rest of class.

* * *

><p>Draco would have preferred to shower away the layer of dirt Granger had heaped upon him but there were other things that needed attending to first. He locked himself away in his dormitory's washroom and turned the taps on the tub as far to cold as they would go. While the tub filled he kicked off his shoes and pulled off his shirt, taking care when he slid the left sleeve over his hand. When the tub was nearly full he shut the water off and knelt beside it.<p>

This would hurt, he knew, but it was pain on the way to healing. Even so, it took him five counts of three before he finally forced himself to put his arm in the icy water. He felt the chill go straight to his bones. For several seconds there was only more pain and then his nerves began to numb and for the first time in hours he could relax, even if it was only a little. This was his own fault. He should have known better than to sneak out during the day but with a free morning he hadn't been able to help himself. He'd been so busy keeping lookout when he returned that he'd gotten two of his fingers broken by the Whomping Willow.

He could skip this next part until he was finished but the ends of his tie were floating at the surface of the water, a taunting reminder of what that mudblood had done to him. He tugged the dragon hide glove off his right hand with his teeth and dropped it over his shoulder. He needed his nails to undo the tight knot. Once it was free, he lay the soaking tie over the edge of the tub and ignored the renewed stinging in his arm. It wasn't nearly as bad as the ache in his hand and that he desperately needed to take care of.

He'd been lucky that his only two classes this afternoon were History of Magic and Herbology. Binns paid so little attention to his students that he didn't notice Draco cradling his hand under the desk. In Herbology he was able to shrink his glove, making a pseudo-splint to keep his bones from moving too much. He was paying for it now though. The swelling had gotten so bad he couldn't even move the hand.

He pulled out his wand, cast a quick silencing charm at the door, and hesitated. Healing oneself was never recommended and given the extent of this injury and how long he'd let it fester this should knock him out cold until at least tomorrow. That's where this little experiment of his came in. He was betting that the laws of physics would hold true and the healing magic would go to his arm first due to its lower temperature, keeping the energy confined mostly to his body and preventing him from burning out.

With one deep breath - and hoping he wouldn't take his next conscious one in the hospital wing - Draco pulled his arm from the water, touched his hand to his wrist, and said, "_Osecto_."

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><p>reviews=love<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Spring Fever**

Chapter 2

"Better?" Ginny asked. Hermione experimentally twisted her wrist. The swelling was gone and there was only the faintest echo of discomfort when she dropped it forward all the way.

Hermione smiled. "Much. Thanks, Gin."

"I still don't see why you didn't go to Madam Pomfrey," Ron said.

Ginny rose from the ottoman she'd been seated on to give her brother a good-natured slap on the arm. "You're just miffed she wouldn't let you heal it."

"I'm a more experienced wizard than you are!"

This was met with quickly covered-up laughter. Though they were all guilty, it was Harry who bore the brunt of Ron's displeasure.

"She said no to you too!" Ron snapped.

"No," Harry said calmly, "she said no to you saying I should do it. I only told her to go to the hospital wing to be on the safe side." He lifted his left arm absently, no doubt remembering the shoddy healing that had resulting in the loss of all the bones in that limb.

"I hope you at least got him back," Ron said, abandoning his annoyance with his friends in favor of one of his favorite pastimes: hating Malfoy.

"I did," Hermione said, flexing the fingers of her right hand. She hadn't bothered Ginny with the bite on her finger. It wasn't very deep and after a good cleaning and bandaging was barely in her way at all. She could still feel Malfoy's skin under her nails, she'd even found some there when she stopped in the lavatory on her way to Gryffindor Tower. She'd actually been proud when she saw it there, stuck close to her skin with the dirt and sweat of the day's work. A shiver ran up her spine when she remembered meeting her own eyes in the mirror and seeing that look of grim satisfaction. She'd wanted to do it again.

"You okay?" Harry asked, seeing her shiver.

"Oh no, did I do it wrong?" Ginny asked, rushing over and pulling Hermione's hand into her lap.

"I'm fine," Hermione assured over Ron's I-told-you-so's. "I'm just remembering working with Malfoy."

The others shuddered in sympathy. There was some talk of further payback, which Hermione vetoed. She'd done enough and didn't want anyone getting in trouble on her account.

"Well, I'm meeting some friends down by the lake," Ginny said and wandered off.

Hermione, Harry, and Ron took in one another's pink, sweaty faces. "Hagrid's," they agreed as one. Gryffindor Tower was cozy and warm during winter but when the weather turned warm all the heat in the castle below traveled upward. It wasn't hard to see why, on warmer days like this, more Gryffindors and Ravenclaws turned up on the lawns outside than Hufflepuffs and Slytherins. Thankfully this held true today. Hermione wasn't sure what her friends would do if they saw Malfoy and she didn't want to see him again herself after what had happened.

"Harry!" Hagrid greeted warmly when they arrived at the Hippogriff paddock he had set up beside his hut. "Ron! Hermione! How're ye doin'?" Hagrid's gaze settled on Hermione. She blushed furiously. "I 'eard Malfoy was the one that started it."

"I'm fine," Hermione said quickly and, with a warning glance at Harry and Ron, added, "Really."

"Well, I never doubted that. Yer better than 'im," Hagrid said, his voice dropping gently, "an' 'e's known it since day one."

Hermione's blush deepened. Hagrid dropped an encouraging hand on her shoulder. Harry and Ron, used to this sort of thing by now, immediately grabbed her arms, keeping her upright.

"Now, I'm sure I know why ye're all here," Hagrid said, finally releasing Hermione. She rolled her aching shoulder gingerly and smiled her thanks at the boys behind Hagrid's back.

"Well," Harry said, exchanging a desperate look with Ron, "we were- uh…"

"Ye wanted to see Beaky o' course!" Hagrid proclaimed, leading the Hippogriff over to them.

"Don't you mean 'Witherwings,' Hagrid?" Hermione asked pointedly.

"O' course, o' course," he said absently.

Harry and Ron climbed the fence and bowed to Buckbeak. The hippogriff lifted its head heavenward in an unmistakable eye roll as it bent its forelegs in return. Apparently it considered the boys old friends and saw no reason for such ceremony any longer.

"Well, come on, Hermione," Hagrid said. "'E wants to see you again too."

Hermione sighed in resignation. She knew Buckbeak was only half horse and even that wasn't entirely accurate since hippogriffs were their own species, not some disturbing hybrid, but that didn't stop her from seeing half a horse when she looked at him. Whenever it had been her turn to clean up his room at Grimmauld Place she'd traded chores with whoever was willing, no matter how dangerous or disgusting the task.

She got halfway over the fence when it happened. Buckbeak slipped between the boys, who were running their hands through his feathers, and reared up on his hind legs, kicking his talons and flapping his wings threateningly at her.

"Whoa! Whoa!" Hagrid bellowed, rushing between Buckbeak and Hermione.

"Ah!" Hermione cried, tumbling into the grass.

Harry and Ron were by her side in seconds, asking if she was injured and arguing over how best to care for her.

"I'm fine!" she snapped when they started discussing the need for a stretcher.

"You haven't moved at all!" Ron said. "You could be seriously injured!"

"That's because the two of your are kneeling on my arms," she said. Immediately both boys jumped up, allowing Hermione to rise to her feet.

"Hermione!" Hagrid gasped, jogging over to them. Behind him Hermione could see Buckbeak tugging at a rope holding him in place and turning his head fitfully back and forth to glare at her out of both eyes. "Are ye all righ'?" Hagrid asked. "I swear, I've never seen 'im like this before!"

"Except with Malfoy," Harry said quietly. Immediately the three of them let out identical oh's of realization.

"I worked with Malfoy in Herbology today," Hermione said. "I must smell like him."

Hagrid's frown didn't abate but he nodded in understanding.

"I think I'll just take a walk around the lake," Hermione said, stepping back from the fence.

"We can come with you," Ron offered.

Hermione shook her head. "Witherwings is worried about you and he'll be a lot calmer once I'm gone. I'll be fine, I should be studying for NEWTs anyway."

"Okay," Harry said not at all convincingly.

Hermione set off for the lake before any of them could argue, waving goodbye to Hagrid just before rounding the hill the castle was built on and dropping out of sight of the hut entirely. The breeze off the lake was cool and lifted her spirits. She just couldn't feel crummy about Malfoy and Buckbeak when she was finally, blessedly cool for the first time all day.

She wandered into the breeze, stopping beneath a tree by the lakeshore and sitting down on the cool grass. The spot was fairly isolated. The Forbidden Forest began to creep onto the grounds here, making the foliage more wild and unruly, and most students were lazy, keeping to the shore closer to the castle rather than walking further around.

With dinner still hours off she really should head up to the library. The walk back to the castle would cool her down considerably and still leave her with plenty of time to do research for her Transfiguration essay. Yes, she would do exactly that, but first she decided to rest her eyes. Just for a minute.

* * *

><p>Draco woke up on the floor, the tile cool beneath his cheek and the pain in his hand totally gone. He sat up slowly, tugging at the thin chain he always wore around his neck. It was a gift from his mother in case of emergencies and he'd promised never to take it off, despite its annoying habit of twisting painfully into his neck. His head felt a bit fuzzy but he was alive and if the shadows on the wall were any indication he couldn't have been out more than an hour. He reached back to feel the water but stopped halfway, wincing.<p>

His hand might have healed but the claw marks that bitch had left on his arm were still there. Four angry red lines stood out on his pale skin. Darker spots peppered each where she'd actually broken the skin. He gently brushed the fingers of his right hand over the marks, slowly imitating her earlier attack. She'd shocked him, even more than in third year when she slapped him. He let his head fall back, screwing his eyes shut against that remembered humiliation. At least no one had seemed to notice this time. They'd all been so busy trying to keep out of trouble and finish their work, they hadn't wasted energy looking at anyone else.

He reached up to run his hands through his hair but stopped, instead leaning his head against his now-healed hand. If he sat very still he could feel his pulse beneath the injury. It was warm when he pressed his lips to it, the tiny scabs rough against his chapped lips.

Draco pulled back. Why the hell had he done that? He shook his head at his own silliness. He was hot and tired and low on magic. He'd probably been remembering days when he was younger and his mother would kiss his injuries better. Sense memory was the strongest, after all.

He climbed unsteadily to his feet and reached into the tub to let the water drain out before pulling off his pants. It was long past time for a shower. He intended to use this time to work on the little problem waiting for him outside school grounds and to plan revenge on Granger. Unfortunately the former never got started because he already had a rather extensive mental library of ways he'd like to make that little mudblood suffer. He'd always had a particular fondness for the ones dating back to his second year. There was one where the basilisk actually laid eyes directly on her and Potty and Weasel cried over her stone cold body. Another had her petrified body being dropped from a great height and cracking into a million tiny pieces on the entrance hall floor.

But none of those were any use to him. He didn't have access to a basilisk and such creatures were liabilities anyway. Who wanted a pet that would kill you as soon as it laid eyes on you?

Revenge on Granger should be more personal anyway, and preferably more public. After Sprout's tirade this afternoon he'd have to leave her be in Herbology but they shared most other classes this year. Care of Magical Creatures - which he was only still taking for the career opportunities - would be tricky. That oaf, Hagrid, favored Potter and his friends even more than the other Gryffindors. Potions and Defense were real options but they depended greatly on what they were studying that day and this deserved a more thought-out plan.

He still hadn't come up with one by the time he redressed and headed outside. Usually he'd take his evening run after dinner but he had an early day with the Gryffindor-Slytherin match tomorrow and wanted to be well rested.

Despite the earlier heat it was almost too cold with his still-wet hair and the breeze in the long shadows. Rather than abandon the tree-lined shore for the more open lawns he pushed himself harder to compensate, wanting to be good and exhausted when he got back to the castle. He didn't consider turning back until he'd almost reached the part of the lake closest to Hagrid's hut. If one of his precious monsters was choking on the kittens he surely fed them, the oaf would no doubt blame it on Draco just for happening by.

With this in mind he rounded a hedge, intending on turning around right away, only to stop dead. Hermione Granger lay curled up on the grass. At first he thought no one could be so still and be alive. Fear welled up in him. What if someone saw him here? No one would believe he hadn't been the one to do her in.

She took in a shuddering breath and rolled so that her legs remained curled up where they'd been but her back was more or less flat on the grass. God, the girl was like a cat. She slept on the grass like one of those filthy animals and had the claws to boot.

How foolish could she be? This place was about as cut off as you could get on Hogwarts grounds. The thick foliage blocked any view from the castle above or the slope leading down here and with the way the bushes curved towards the shore only someone on the Forbidden Forest side of the lake could see her. How many people could have passed by while she slept? He could count on one hand the number of people in the school who hated her at least as much as he did but that still left a lot of hate for the rest of the Hogwarts population to feel for her. And what if something had crawled out of the lake or wandered in from the forest? She could have been mauled to death in her sleep!

"Idiot Gryffindors," he muttered, circling her. The light through the branches overhead caught her Head Girl badge. She was so bloody proud of that thing, wearing it everywhere she went like it actually mattered.

Inspiration struck. It wasn't nearly revenge enough for that afternoon but it was a start. He knelt gingerly beside her and lifted the collar of her blouse. It was loose, thank Merlin. His disgust aside, the thought of her face if she woke up now and saw him with his hand down her shirt made him chuckle silently. The pin's catch was the same as his prefect badge and came open with an easy flick of his fingers. It took a bit of juggling to free the badge without tugging at the fabric, causing the knuckles of Draco's hand, still inside Granger's blouse, to brush over her breast.

She reacted immediately and not in any of the million ways Draco would have imagined, had he had time to ponder his fate. Instead of waking up in a holy rage and slapping him silly, she remained asleep. Her back arched, pressing her breast against his hand.

For several seconds Draco was as a statue. He could see now what he'd missed in his earlier inspection. Her cheeks were flushed, her skin bright with a sheen of perspiration despite the chill here in the shadows.

"Hermione Granger," he whispered, turning his hand over to oblige her, "are you having a sex dream?" He kneaded her breast, wondering idly if he could get his hand under her bra without waking her. He rubbed the seam over her nipple and she gasped. Had Potty or Weasel ever seen her like this? Her skin pink in excitement, her mouth a perfect little O of aroused surprise?

Of course, it was probably one of them she was dreaming of. That thought should have pleased him - he, her most hated enemy, was the one bringing her pleasure while those two idiots probably didn't even know why she slept on the other side of the tower - it only left him cold though. He didn't want one of those fools to gain in her estimation thanks to his actions, he wanted her to know it was _him_ who-

Draco pulled his hand from her shirt and stumbled back until he hit the trunk of a tree. What the hell was he thinking? Why was he even _touching_ her? He shook himself furiously, rubbed his palm on his pant leg and the rough bark of the tree just to get the feel of her off his skin. His spastic convulsions of disgust brought his left forearm up against his hip and he hissed. All at once the claw marks ached again.

He looked back to Granger. She didn't seem to have been disturbed by his abrupt abandonment, nor his mad dance. Her pin lay where he'd dropped it, in the grass beside her arm. He snatched it up, sneering though she couldn't see. He considered leaving it at that but he couldn't very well go around wearing her badge as proof he'd stolen it. That would land him in detention and be embarrassing to boot. He would have to leave behind some sign it had been him. Not his prefect badge, he needed that and he'd forgotten it in his room. Aside from the necklace he'd sworn never to remove, he only wore two other pieces of jewelry: the Slytherin ring his father had bought him as a congratulatory gift on being sorted properly and the Malfoy signet ring.

He fingered the latter, remembering how his mother had wasted no time, taking him aside right there on Platform 9 ¾ to slip it on his finger.

"You're seventeen now," she'd said. "Man of the house." And then she'd kissed him on the forehead the way she had when he was young. And he'd let her because there was nothing more to be said. They'd all made their choices.

Something stung at the back of Draco's eyes. He hurriedly pulled off the Slytherin ring.

The girl certainly was a heavy sleeper. She hadn't woken when he felt her up and she didn't wake when he slipped the serpent ring on her middle finger.

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><p><em>reviews=love<em>


	3. Chapter 3

AN: What? Are you implying that I'm updating now because tomorrow's my birthday and this way I'll wake up to reviews? Pfft! That's ... that's ... Just read the fic.

**Spring Fever**

CHAPTER 3

Hermione stretched lazily. She'd had a wonderful dream and kept her eyes shut in an effort to recall its details. It had been third year, except she'd been her eighteen year old self. Malfoy was there, also his current self and being a prat like always. He was going on about Buckbeak and Hagrid and she slapped him again. But that couldn't have been all, she thought with a frown. She wouldn't be this happy just from slapping-

She sat up, her eyes going wide as the rest of the dream came back to her in a rush. She'd gone to slap him all right, but he'd caught her hand midswing and pulled her flush against his body. She covered her face in mortification. They'd kissed! They'd kissed and done - other things.

"Ohgodohgodohgod," she moaned. She could not be having sex dreams about _Draco Malfoy_. Her only consolation was that it hadn't gone _too_ far. Their clothes hadn't even come off. Though, if she remembered correctly, she'd let him slip his hand underneath her shirt.

She flailed as if she could shake off the disgusting feeling. This was wrong, so _so_ wrong. Heat stroke, that had to be it, she decided quickly. It had been so hot today and she'd been injured and then Buckbeak had sent her blood pressure soaring. She'd just gotten a bit overheated and had a fever-induced dream. That explained why she'd fallen asleep outside as well, she realized, taking in her surroundings for the first time. She was lucky no one had happened upon her.

She climbed to her feet, brushing her pants and back and running her fingers through her hair to dispel any lingering leaves or bugs that might have crawled in.

"Ow!" she cried. Her hair had caught on something on her finger. She carefully pulled her hand in front of her face so she could see what she was doing. A small tangle had gotten caught on the ring she knew she hadn't been wearing earlier. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears but she ignored it, pushing aside her rising fear to free herself.

Once her hair was sorted she slipped the ring off. It was a silver serpent, its tail tucked under its chin and its mouth open to show off two long fangs. The brilliant emerald eyes glittered up at her as she turned it over in her palm. She'd seen this before and it didn't take much thought to figure out where. But why would Draco Malfoy give her his ring? Was it just proof that he'd seen her while she was vulnerable? And oh! She'd been dreaming about him! Could he have done that?

"No," she said soothingly, "the magic's way too advanced." Only the most advanced Legilimens could create dreams and she doubted even a seventeen year old Tom Riddle could have pulled that off. It was coincidence, that was all.

Of course, this still begged the question: why the ring? She looked herself over as best she could with only the lake to show her reflection and found no signs of a hex or curse. She patted her clothes, just to be sure he hadn't conjured boils somewhere she couldn't see. She certainly didn't feel anything wrong. It was on her third inspection of her person that she realized her Head Girl badge was missing. She bit back a cry of outrage.

The git had stolen her badge and left her with his ugly snake ring!

By the time she made it back up the hill to the castle she'd burned through most of her anger and was left with a hollow sense of annoyance. Couldn't he just grow up already? They weren't third years anymore.

And wasn't that the truth, she thought, her dream flashing through her mind once more.

She slipped the ring back on her finger as she entered the castle with the stream of students heading to dinner. She'd wear it openly. That would show Malfoy just how bothered she was by his little prank - and she didn't want to risk forgetting the ring in her pocket and losing it forever either. She did _not_ need Malfoy angry at her for losing the ring he "lent" her.

She saw him the moment she stepped into the Great Hall. He was having an animated discussion with Zabini, no doubt about tomorrow's strategy. Her stomach dropped and the Great Hall seemed to flip on its head. Her plans dissolved. Hoping no one noticed her hurry or the way her knees shook, she quickly took a seat at the Gryffindor table with her back to the Slytherins.

"You okay?" Harry asked, his brow furrowing in worry.

So much for no one noticing.

"Fine," she said, nodding quickly. "I just got a little overheated today. I need to get some food in me."

No sooner were the words out of her mouth than she regretted them. The boys spent the rest of dinner loading up her plate every time she cleared even the tiniest portion. She smiled at their concern and took it with a brave face. She truly hoped that was all she needed to be back to her old self. The last thing she wanted was her stomach doing summersaults every time Malfoy walked into a room.

"Promise me we'll crush him tomorrow," Ron said suddenly.

Hermione looked up sharply. Ron's face was red and his glare was focused over her shoulder. Already knowing who she'd find, Hermione turned. Malfoy's face was twisted with barely constrained fury and his eyes were locked on Ron.

"What's gotten into him?" Ginny asked from a few seats down.

"Like Malfoy needs a reason," Ron spat.

Malfoy's gaze slowly shifted to Hermione. For a moment his eyes widened, as if he hadn't noticed her sitting there this whole time. His eyes flashed down to her shoulder, just above her breast where her Head Girl badge usually sat and he smirked. Hermione, not to be outdone, lifted the hand on which she wore his ring and waved her fingers at him. His smile dropped and Hermione turned back around before he could retaliate.

"What was that about?" Harry asked.

Hermione shrugged casually, hoping to stop the declaration of war in advance. "Malfoy's ring." She flashed it at them quickly. "He has my Head Girl badge."

"_He stole your badge_?" Harry demanded at the same moment Ron chortled, "_You stole his ring_?"

* * *

><p>"Oh no," Hermione said. <em>Daily Prophets<em> were arriving all over the Great Hall and with them was sure to return Malfoy's bad mood of last night.

"What?" Ron asked around a mouthful of eggs. He leaned over her shoulder to see the front page. "Oh." Staring up at them was the proud, looming figure of Lucius Malfoy. Even in chains, in the depths of Azkaban, he looked superior.

"Did they finally catch him?" Ginny asked.

"Better yet, did he resist arrest and meet with his about-timely end?"

"Ron!" Hermione snapped. She tried to hit him but was too busy skimming the article to make sure it connected. "Nothing new," she said. "Why would they print a front page article if there was absolutely nothing new?"

"It's good for us though, isn't it?" Harry asked. "Malfoy's rubbish when he's angry."

At the mention of him everyone listening to the conversation looked across the hall. Draco Malfoy sat in his usual spot at Slytherin table, shoulders back and head held high. The only sign that he'd noticed his father's face all over the Great Hall was the slightly pink tint to his cheeks. His expression was a mirror of the one in the newspaper: cold, derisive, superior in every way. Hermione found herself fingering his ring under the table. She'd slipped it back on that morning before she even realized what she was doing. If he were anyone else she'd find a way to return it to him before the match just to brighten his spirits but any kindness from her would only make him angrier.

"You'd think they'd have caught him by now," Ron said, returning to his food. "It's been _weeks_."

"He's probably gone back to Voldemort," Harry said. Mention of the still at large megalomaniac dampened the eagerness at Gryffindor table.

"It's not like one Death Eater will make that much difference," Hermione said. "In the three years since he returned all he's done is unsuccessfully infiltrate one department of the Ministry and cause some panic. And that's not even that impressive since he's targeting Muggles mostly and they just think it's been a bad couple of years."

"Yeah," Ron said in a stage whisper, "that's not as comforting as you might think, Hermione."

She gave her paper a particularly loud shake under the guise of straightening it out and went back to it. She only made it halfway down the page when she cried out.

"What is it this time?" Ron asked, dropping his fork onto his plate with a clatter.

"I thought Lee only wrote for the sports section!" Hermione said, looking to the boys. They knew Lee better and since Ron's brothers were Lee's best friends he was more likely to know if he'd been promoted to Features.

"I thought so too," Harry said, looking to the by-line on the Lucius Malfoy non-story. He pulled the paper from Hermione's hands and flipped to the continuation. After a few seconds he burst out laughing.

"What?" Hermione asked.

Harry folded back the paper to show her. "Here, at the very end of the article. '_Malfoy's son, Draco, currently attends Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and will today be losing the snitch for Slytherin in the final Quidditch match of the season against Gryffindor._' He must have bribed someone to run the article just to mess with Malfoy."

Ron grabbed the paper, laughing so hard he was in danger of choking on his food. "That's brilliant! I bet the twins had something to do with it."

Hermione's disapproving glare was lost on them as they started showing the article to the rest of the team. She watched the news spread like wildfire through the Great Hall. Malfoy didn't react when Zabini quietly slid into the seat beside him and whispered in his ear. Crabbe and Goyle, who'd told Zabini, were huddled further down the table, watching their leader fearfully. Zabini patted Malfoy's arm in a manly show of comfort and quickly returned to his seat.

Malfoy remained still for several seconds then lifted his eyes to look straight into hers. Harry and Ron's laughter faded into the background, drowned out by the pounding of Hermione's heart. She was used to Malfoy looking at her with more emotion than he usually showed others. For all his insistence that she was beneath him, she was one of the few people in the school he'd drop his mask for. This was different though. The look in his eyes shot straight through her, bringing back memories of her dream yesterday afternoon and the multiple replays her subconscious had inflicted on her last night.

Her mouth had gone painfully dry and she quickly licked her lips. This seemed to startle Malfoy, who shot her a weak glare and stood, signaling the rest of the Slytherin team to do the same. As they filed out Hermione spun the ring around her finger, trying to stop her raging imagination.

* * *

><p>Draco sighed deeply. He would much prefer to slam his locker shut in frustration but he didn't want the rest of the team thinking the <em>Prophet<em> article had gotten to him. That would be better than the truth though. What had gotten into him? _Granger_? Was he really that desperate for a shag that he'd be fantasizing about her?

"You want me to hex you?" Blaise asked, leaning against the locker beside him. Most students would consider that a threat but Draco knew Blaise was offering to deafen him for the game. It would keep the Gryffindor taunts from getting to him.

"No," Draco said. "I need to hear the whistle - and the crowd in case Potter spots the snitch first."

Blaise nodded but didn't turn away, a sure sign he had something more to say and that this would probably be his real reason for coming over.

"What's wrong?" he asked finally, his voice low so the rest of the team wouldn't hear. "I know it's not the article so don't even try that. You were dealing perfectly fine this morning."

"Those Gryffindors were gloating before the match even started, that was all," Draco said.

"Try again," Blaise said calmly. "And maybe this time try to convince me this has nothing to do with why you locked yourself in the bathroom for over an hour yesterday afternoon."

"Gee, Blaise, I can't imagine why a teenage boy might want to be alone near running water for a while."

Rather than shut Blaise up this only made him smile. "I'm not going to ask because, given the events of yesterday's Herbology lesson and just who was staring at our table this morning, I have a pretty good idea who it is. I only wish you'd had the foresight to develop this rather disturbing crush sooner. Could you imagine the Gryffindor team's faces if our captain had managed to shag their princess before the big match? There'd be nothing they could say to us, not that their insults are half decent anyway."

Blaise walked away then, leaving Draco with his disturbing thoughts. He did not want Granger, not in that way, not in _any_ way except under him where she belonged. Draco closed his eyes. That thought had not come out the way he'd meant it and left him with a distracting mental image.

With a growl of frustration he slammed his locker door shut, garnering the attention of his team. "Let's destroy them," he said, murder in his eyes. As he led his team out onto the field it did not help his mood that Blaise was holding back laughter.

They met the Gryffindors midfield and he grudgingly shook Potter's hand. This was the last time he'd have to do this and the last chance he'd ever have to beat Potter to the snitch, to take back glory for his house. He saw the same thoughts cross Potter's mind and felt a strange, momentary kinship. It disappeared the moment they released hands and mounted their brooms.

The whistle blew and they kicked off, both seekers rising high above the field to watch for the snitch. Draco felt the eyes of the crowd on him but two in particular kept drawing his gaze. Granger. He'd dreamt of her last night, of her awakening by the lake and welcoming his attentions. He shook himself and pulled his eyes away from her for the umpteenth time. He hated her! He still wanted to wring her filthy little mudblood neck! Except now he wanted to kiss her and fuck her first - and possibly forget all about the murder in favor of fucking her again.

"Looking for your father in the stands, Malfoy?" one of the Gryffindor beaters called. Usually Draco would make it a point to know his enemies' names but in the case of idiot Gryffindors who'd had a few too many bludgers to the head, he made exceptions. "Did you think he'd risk being caught just to cheer you on? Never seemed to care before he was on the run, did he?"

Blaise was right about one thing: the Gryffindor insults were crude and inelegant at best. Most were the same ones he'd been hearing for the past two years since his father was put in Azkaban. The sting had long ago worn down.

"Your team's pathetic, Potter," Draco called.

"Really, Malfoy?" Potter asked. "I would have thought it's your mother who's pathetic, waiting for her darling Lucy to come home."

The Weasel's little sister, who'd been batting a bludger away from Potter, added, "Or has she already moved on with one of daddy's old friends?"

Now that was uncalled for. Crabbe had heard and began a campaign against the littlest Weasel, driving her off. Draco's blood began to boil and his grip on his broom tightened. The sense of being watched grew heavy on his shoulders and he shot a glare in Granger's direction. Maybe Blaise was right about something else too. Smiling wickedly Draco flew close to Potter so he'd be sure to hear every word he said.

"I know one person who's not doing any waiting," he said, "or did you not notice Granger's taken to wearing my ring?"

Potter laughed. "If you expect me to believe Hermione would let you anywhere near her-"

"Where was she yesterday afternoon?" Draco cut in quickly. "You and Weasel are her constant companions but she gave you the slip yesterday. Did she tell you she was going to the library? Had a lot of homework to catch up on? She uses that excuse so often you don't even question it anymore, do you?" He laughed, mocking. "You're pathetic, Potter. Wanna know where she really was? Down by the lake with me."

Potter grabbed Draco's jersey. "Take that back, you- you-"

"She begged for it," Draco went on, reveling in the fury pouring off his rival. Madam Hooch was blowing her whistle fiercely, calling for order. She assumed though, that the captains would show some restraint and break themselves up, so was focusing on Crabbe and the Weasels. "And you know what she really loves, Potter?" Draco whispered, forcing Potter to lean closer to hear. "She loves when I call her 'mudblood.'"

Potter's fist slammed into his jaw, knocking him completely off his broom.

* * *

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	4. Chapter 4

AN: Just so you all know my laptop's in the shop, which means I'm currently sharing a computer with two other people. This makes writing super hard since I have to do it by hand first and I can't share it with my beta/sounding board. Until I get my laptop back and my writing schedule gets back on track, updates will inevitably slow.

**Spring Fever**

Chapter 4

"Just go," Neville said.

"What?" Hermione asked, gathering the squirming Crookshanks to her chest.

Neville smiled at her. "You're driving yourself crazy sitting here. Not to mention Crookshanks."

Sheepishly, Hermione let go of her cat and folded her hands in her lap. "I'm setting an example as Head Girl," she pointed out. "Half the house prefects are in the hospital wing, I should be here to support the younger years."

"You mean those younger years?" Neville asked, pointing to a corner where first and second years were playing with the newest Weasley products. A roar of shock and approval went up and Hermione frowned, anything that fun couldn't be allowed. "Just _go_," Neville said again. "Don't make me kick you out the door."

Hermione smiled gratefully at him and hurried out the portrait hole. She paid little mind to her surroundings as she rushed down the hallways, too intent on reaching her destination even to keep an eye out for troublemakers.

The infirmary was split down the middle with Gryffindors in the beds on the left and Slytherins on the right. Over half the beds were filled. Malfoy's fall and the fight between Crabbe and Ginny had escalated quickly into a midair battle between the two teams, ending only when the professors rushed the field and cast spells to pull them all apart. Hermione headed straight for Harry's bed in the middle of the ward, though her eyes strayed to the Slytherin side of the room.

"Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey sighed when Hermione appeared. "Be a dear and keep Mr. Potter in bed. I have other patients to tend and I can't keep abandoning them just to stop him from running off."

"I'm fine!" Harry said.

Hermione took a seat on the edge of his bed and reached up to brush his hair back, purposefully nudging his black eye. Harry winced and fell back into his pillows with a huff.

"It's just a black eye," he muttered.

"And three cracked ribs," Ron said from the next bed. One of his legs was propped up and his head was heavily bandaged.

Ginny, in the bed on her brother's other side, leaned over to say, "And a dislocated shoulder."

"It's not dislocated anymore," Harry said quietly.

Hermione laughed quietly. "What were you even thinking?" she asked. "You _pushed Malfoy off his broom_. You could have killed him."

"Please don't start," Ron said. "Snape and McGonagall argued about that for at least half an hour before Dumbledore showed up and kicked them out."

Hermione glanced towards the Slytherin beds, once again searching for that familiar blond head. Malfoy was nowhere to be seen however and she found herself looking to the closed off beds at the end of the ward. He'd been caught. At least half the staff had shot spells at his falling body. He couldn't have been too badly hurt … could he?

"And it's not like it would have been that big a loss," Ron went on. "It's just Malfoy. Even his mom'd probably thank you."

"Shut up, Ron," Hermione snapped. There was a strange emptiness inside her, a little like the sense of being deeply wronged that had hit her when she realized Malfoy stole her badge, only this was far, far worse.

"Yeah," Ginny said, "it's your fault we're in here in the first place! If you'd just let me handle Crabbe instead of rushing in-"

"He was attacking you!"

"And I was attacking him right back!"

While the sibling quarrel escalated, Hermione dragged her eyes away from the curtained off beds and found Harry watching her, as if seeing her for the first time.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked. "Do you need me to get Madam Pomfrey?"

Harry gently grabbed her hand atop the blankets and lifted it up. The feel of his skin on hers sent a disturbing chill through her and she shifted slightly, trying to hide her discomfort.

"How did you get Malfoy's ring?" he asked. "You never told us."

She pulled her hand from his, unable to stand the queasy feeling his touch brought on any longer. "It's not important," she said, "not at all exciting or harrowing."

"I want to know." He was still looking at her like she was a stranger.

"He- he dropped it," she said, the lie coming easily once she began. "I found it and when I tried to return it he accused me of stealing it."

"And so you decided to keep it?"

"Yes," Hermione said. Harry's frown deepened, he knew her well enough to know she would never do something like that out of pettiness and spite. "Where is Malfoy anyway?" she asked, hoping the question didn't come out as concerned as she felt. She just needed to see him, that would ease whatever this gnawing feeling in her gut was. It was not worry. She knew worry. She worried all the time about grades and Harry and the war. Worry didn't leave her feeling faint when her enemy fell, it didn't make her want to hurt her friends, and it certainly didn't kickstart absurd fantasies about kissing an injured Malfoy better.

"The little ferret was the only one who walked away uninjured," Ron said petulantly. "Just had the wind knocked out of him."

Relief flooded Hermione. He was fine, just fine, the only one to escape without injury. She was reassured for only a few seconds before the need to see him rose up again, stronger now that she no longer had to worry for him. The desire was so strong she climbed to her feet without thought, intent on searching the school for him.

"Ah, thank you, Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey said, arriving at just that moment and saving her from having to provide an explanation for her odd actions. "Now, young man, let's see about those ribs."

"I'll just - go," Hermione said, backing away from the bed to make room for Pomfrey.

"Hermione," Harry called, concern shining from his eyes. Pomfrey pushed him back into his pillows and threatened to stun him if he moved again. Hermione turned to go, ignoring Ron and Ginny's curious looks.

Two steps out the infirmary doors and movement through the window at the end of the hall caught her eye. This side of the castle faced the Quidditch pitch, where two figures were zooming about: one obviously Madam Hooch still in her referee gear and the other clad in Slytherin green Quidditch robes. Hermione's heart jumped into her throat. She ran nearly the whole way down to the pitch, slowing only on the stairs in fear she might trip and break her neck.

She stopped beside the Ravenclaw stands, watching him fly high above her. He really must be all right if Madam Hooch was letting him fly so soon. He took a lazy turn around the field then took off, headed nearly straight up. All at once his speed let up and he fell back, turning his free-fall into a loop-de-loop.

"Malfoy!" Hermione gasped. Visions of that morning flashed through her mind. The fear that had gripped her heart returned, making her knees go weak.

In the still of midday and without the usual roaring crowd in the stands, her voice carried easily. Malfoy, who'd been shaking his head at Hooch, came around to look at her. Sudden awareness shot through her. Even at this distance she could feel his eyes on her like a physical touch. He dropped out of the sky and approached her, his eyes narrowed. Hooch came down as well and pulled her goggles off with a wide grin.

"Ah, Miss Granger," she said, slightly breathless, "I hope you haven't been sent out here to find someone's missing teeth?" Though she smiled with good humor while she said it, Hermione couldn't help but feel that she was slightly serious.

"No," she said quickly. "I- I had just wondered what you two were doing out here, especially after…" Her eyes darted to Malfoy.

"Of course, of course," Hooch said. "Probably thought we were a couple of students having some fun while all the staff is worried about our troublemakers. When Malfoy here was released he was kind enough to offer to help me find the golden snitch."

"Find it?" Hermione asked.

Malfoy gave an exasperated sigh. "No one caught it, did they?" he asked. "And they have to be immune to summoning charms or it's too easy to cheat."

Hooch frowned at his choice of words. "Quite right," she said slowly.

The school bell tolled in the distance, chiming in the noon hour.

"I promised Dumbledore a report on this morning's … incident by now," Hooch said. "The snitch'll wait. You two should head back up, get some food in you after all the excitement."

"Not until we've found it," Draco said quickly.

Hooch's frown deepened. "Now see here, boy. I let you have a lot of leeway because you're a damn good flyer but I am not about to let you fly alone after the fall you had."

"I'll stay," Hermione said, the words surprising her as much as the other two. "I mean, I'm not much of a flyer but I can cast a decent levicorpus."

Hooch didn't seem entirely convinced of the wisdom of this plan but there were very few students more determined to get their way than Hermione and Malfoy.

"Fine," she said. She leveled a finger in Malfoy's direction. "But if you feel even the tiniest bit lightheaded you will ground yourself immediately, are we clear?" He nodded curtly and Hooch swung her finger to Hermione. "And if he wavers even the tiniest bit in his form up there _you_ will ground him immediately, clear?" Hermione nodded. "Right. Try not to kill each other."

Hooch jogged up the hill to the castle and Malfoy remained on the ground, seemingly in no hurry to get back to searching for the snitch.

"I didn't think you'd be out of the hospital wing so soon," Hermione said lamely, desperate for anything to fill the silence and distract her from the odd desire to step closer to him.

"It wasn't so bad. Potter was worse off. My team got some good shots in from what I saw, flat on my back and unable to breathe."

Hermione bit her lip. She hadn't been able to look away from his body on the ground and until Snape had reached Malfoy she'd had a hard time breathing herself.

"Of course," Malfoy went on, pulling off his arm guards, "I could have done with a little more care from Pomfrey. She was in such a rush to tend the others she didn't even notice this." He dropped the padding to the grass along with his broom and pulled up his left sleeve, twisting the arm up so she could see.

"Oh!" she gasped. "What did that?" she asked. What animal was big enough to make marks so wide and yet so shallow?

He made a small sound like a laugh and she looked up to find him smiling at her, really smiling for the first time since she'd met him. It filled her with warmth and she looked down to hide her own pleased smile. When had they gotten so close? She'd been trying not to come nearer, had he been the one to step forward?

"You did," he said quietly.

Hermione's eyes widened, her rising blush turning to embarrassment as she remembered the day before. She didn't know she was capable of such a thing. She dropped her gaze back to the marks, preferring to face her own mistakes rather than his reaction. "You- you, uh, should really have Pomfrey look at them. It was so dirty and they look pretty bad."

"Did you plan on making another mark?" he asked. She looked up sharply. Did he know what he'd just done? How that perfectly low pitch to his voice made a girl's insides clench? No, of course not. She followed his gaze to her hand. She realized she'd been curling it up, remembering what it felt like to mark him.

"It'll be easier to watch you from the stands," she said abruptly. "Give me a minute to get up there before you take off." She turned away and heard a bug buzz by at just that moment, getting caught in the wave of her hair. She growled in frustration and began mussing her heavy curls to get the thing out.

"Stop!" Malfoy snapped. He grabbed her shoulders, making her still instantly, and turned her back around to face him.

"It's just a bug," she squeaked as he began tugging her hair over her shoulder.

The corner of his mouth tilted up at her tone but he was focused on his task. "No," he said impatiently, "it's the snitch." It buzzed again, just under her ear. He pulled it forward to where they both could see and began carefully extracting it. His fingers brushed gently over the delicate wings. She felt the tip of one brush her neck as it flapped, trying for freedom. Malfoy's grey eyes remained fixed on the snitch. She'd never had the chance to really look at them before. She'd always thought they were cold but now saw they were like a hot summer storm: raging and cruel one moment, caring and gentle the next.

His left arm was right in front of her, the marks burning in her vision. He freed the snitch just as her hand came up. She wrapped her hand over the top of his arm, the pads of her fingers just brushing the scars.

Her eyes flew back to his in confusion, in apology - she didn't know what she was doing. There was a question she couldn't read in his eyes but it was dark and loaded. His earlier question echoed in her head. _Did you plan on making another mark?_

"Yes," she said.

* * *

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	5. Chapter 5

AN: I got my computer back! So with any luck updates won't have to slow down. Also, as you read this chapter and anticipate the next, keep in mind the author's note in chapter one.

**Spring Fever**

CHAPTER 5

Draco knew exactly what question she was answering. The marks had been aggravated by his Quidditch gear but the pain eased the instant she touched them. Her touch was so soft he couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to have her touch him elsewhere, everywhere. He held the snitch - still, now that it had been caught - in the palm of his hand and twined his fingers in her hair.

Blaise was right about everything. He wanted her. She was filthy and wrong and all he could think about was fucking her right here on the grass of the Quidditch pitch.

All of a sudden she stumbled back. Some of her hair caught on his fingers but she didn't seem to notice. Her eyes were wide and fearful.

"There's something wrong," she said, shaking her head. "Did you- did you do something to me?"

"What?" he asked, at once bereft at the loss of her touch and insulted.

"When you found me by the lake, did you do something to me?"

His eyes dropped guiltily to her chest and she flushed.

"Right," she murmured, "good to know that wasn't just my overactive subconscious."

The reminder that he'd helped along her fantasies of someone else did not help his mood. "Which one was it?" he asked darkly. She looked at him in confusion, having been stopped mid-thought. He prowled towards her, driving her back until she hit the side of the Ravenclaw stands. "Which one of those two slack-jawed idiots were you dreaming about while I was touching you?" Realization dawned in her eyes and he caged her in with his arms. "Next time," he promised, "it'll be me you dream about." Her gaze unfocused and he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. "You're _mine_."

Her expression softened and he felt her react positively to his assertion. It only lasted a moment though. She ducked out of his hold and ran a decent distance away before turning to him again.

"If you didn't do this to me, then something must have happened to both of us," she said.

"What are you talking about?" he growled, approaching her.

She pulled out her wand. "Don't! Don't come any closer. I can't - I can't think when you're around. There's something wrong with us and I need to find out what it is."

"Last I checked, out of control hormones weren't a disease, Granger," he said.

She shook her head, looking close to tears. "No, this is more than that. Someone might have cursed us. Just let me go and see what I can find."

"You're not going to hex me, Granger," he said confidently. He took a step forward.

She winced and said, "_Proius_."

Draco blinked and she was gone. He growled in frustration. He knew the spell she'd used. It would have stopped him dead for anywhere from a minute to an hour.

He grabbed his pads and broom up off the ground and marched into the locker room. He had a fine time slamming lockers and throwing quaffles and making a great cacophony while he changed. _Something wrong with them. _What a laugh. Didn't the girl know what lust felt like? Of course, with only Potter and Weasley and the rest of those Gryffindor idiots around she probably didn't have much to entice her. He'd help with that, show her exactly what she was missing, and when he was done she'd never think of any of those fools again.

Once he was fully dressed he marched up to the castle. The Entrance Hall echoed with conversation from the Great Hall, full of students eating lunch. Good, she couldn't have had that much of a lead on him then and he knew exactly where she was going. She'd probably like it better there anyway. She was practically a Ravenclaw and everyone knew books made them hot. He smirked, remembering what he'd said to Potter earlier about what Granger was really doing when she said she was studying in the library. It would be true now, he even had a favorite spot near the restricted section he knew was good for a few minutes of privacy.

He stopped dead. What if what he told Potter really was true? What if she was meeting someone when she said she was going to the library? The thought chilled him and turned his footsteps in a different direction. It didn't take him long to reach the hospital wing.

Pomfrey looked up at him worriedly when he walked in but he smiled, silently assuring her that he was only visiting. Relieved, she went back to her patient, the elder Weasley. He seemed upset that his sister was being allowed to leave and Draco glimpsed a pair of bare women's feet under the curtain circling the bed beside Weasley's. She must have been changing, he figured. Potter, on Weasley's other side, was thankfully fast asleep.

The few members of Draco's team who hadn't been given sleeping draughts waved when they saw him and Draco spent several minutes patting shoulders and making sure everyone was all right before falling into the chair beside Blaise's bed. The idiot had apparently gotten himself seriously hurt. He was out like a light. Draco put his feet up on the bed, deciding to wait it out for a little while at least. His pride was stinging and he wasn't about to give Granger the satisfaction of knowing she could bother him like this.

He looked at his best friend. What use was he if he was sleeping when Draco needed him? And he was snoring too. How quaint.

"You should get Pomfrey to look at that for you," Draco said, knowing he wouldn't be heard, "no girl's going to want you if you're always waking them up with your wheezing."

"Oooov," came Blaise's snore, and then again, more insistent, "_Ooooov_." Draco leaned forward and saw that Blaise's eyes were open just a fraction.

"What the hell are you-" Draco cut off, realizing that Blaise was saying "move." He turned and saw that the small gap in the curtain around the youngest Weasel's bed lined up perfectly with Blaise's line of vision. He was faking sleep to catch a glimpse.

Shaking his head ruefully, Draco replaced the chair and went around to take the one on the other side of Blaise's bed. Five minutes later the Weasley girl left and a quarter of an hour after that Blaise rolled over with a great sigh and opened his eyes blearily. If Draco hadn't known he was faking sleep the whole time, he never would have guessed.

"Very classy," Draco said.

"It's not spying if she knows," Blaise said, smiling like the cat who'd caught the canary.

"No," Draco breathed, leaning forward so no one else would hear. "You are not-"

"We haven't done anything. For all her experience she's very old fashioned. That and she doesn't trust my mother's son and then I, having seen my mother's love life, have issues trusting women…." He shrugged into a sitting position. "I do have to get Crabbe back and make sure she sees it happen though, so you can help me with that later."

"Great," Draco said. His life had enough complications right now without a revenge plot on one of his best friends. "How do you handle that?" he asked. "Her … experience?"

Blaise's eyes narrowed. "This is about that issue we discussed this morning, isn't it?"

"Maybe," Draco said noncommittally.

"Is this just a hypothetical or has actual progress been made?"

Draco smirked and looked towards the windows.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. She barely paid attention to her friends when she was here earlier."

"Really?" he asked, hope bursting in his chest.

Blaise held back a laughing smile at Draco's obvious pride and relief. "Yes, really. She kept looking around for you and when she found out you weren't here at all she couldn't get away fast enough. Whatever you did to make her-" Blaise cut off. "You didn't slip her a love potion, did you? Or did she slip you one?" he added, looking Draco over critically.

"I'm fine!" he snapped. Blaise sounded just like her! There was nothing wrong with them! They were just expressing seven years of mutual hate through sexual gratification - or they _would_, if people would stop assuming there was something mystical going on.

"Well, good," Blaise said, his tone dripping sarcasm, "because that isn't exactly what someone under the influence of a love potion would say."

"Wouldn't I be in love if there was a love potion?" he asked, folding his arms.

"You're not?"

"No. I still hate her. I still think she's scum and not worthy to even stand in my presence."

"But it's okay if she fucks you."

"Yes."

Blaise laughed. "You are one twisted arse, Draco Malfoy. Now go find Snape. He came by earlier looking for you. He had that serious look, I think he wanted to talk to you about the _Prophet_ article."

Draco frowned in annoyance and left, but not to find Snape. _The_ _Prophet_ could hang, he needed to find Granger. He'd given her time to do her precious research. If she wasn't done figuring out she just plain wanted him by now then he'd prove it to her himself. He was halfway to the library when he rounded a corner and nearly ran straight into her.

"Malfoy!" she gasped. A flush crept up her neck and he smiled, glad to know he had an effect.

"Granger," he said, stepping closer to her and angling his body to push her back towards the wall.

"I- I figured it out," she said, fumbling for the messenger bag at her side.

"Good," he said and kissed her before she could say anymore.

She melted into him, not even putting up a fight. She forgot all about the bag and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Her nails dug into his hair, creating a pleasant sort of pain even while her mouth was soft beneath his. When he broke the kiss, needing air, she nipped at his lips. He palmed her breast through her blouse, making her gasp. He smiled when he saw the waking version of her expression of twenty-four hours ago.

"I'll do it again," he said, kissing a trial down her neck, intent on leaving his own mark, "and you'll dream about _me_." He flicked his thumb over her taut nipple at the same moment he bit the skin of her neck. She gasped and it turned into a laugh. That certainly hadn't been the reaction he expected. He pulled back in confusion.

"I _was_ dreaming about you, you idiot," she said and this time she kissed him. He was fumbling around her messenger bag strap, trying to reach the buttons of her blouse, when she said, "We're gonna need a bed."

Draco paused, meeting her lust-filled eyes. It was beyond his wildest fantasies that she would actually be the one to say it. He nodded, his throat going suddenly dry. He wanted this, he wanted her more than he'd ever wanted anyone else. And wasn't it about time anyway? He was seventeen and Slytherins had a reputation, after all. He pushed down the bundle of nerves that had formed in his belly, focusing instead on the all-consuming want.

"I can't get to your room," he pointed out.

"And I don't know how we'd even get down to the dungeons in time. Room of Requirement's two floor's down and it could be in use."

He grabbed her hips and turned her around. He knew a bed they could get to without taking a single step. He pulled the long chain out of his shirt, silently thanking whatever paranoia had prompted his mother to make the thing for him. Granger pressed her back up against him, as desperate for contact as he was. With one hand he pulled her hair aside and began kissing the curve of her neck while with the other he dropped the free end of the chain over her head.

"What's this?" she gasped.

"Kind of like a time-turner," he said and smiled into her skin. "I assume you know what that is?"

"Had one. Third year."

He chuckled.

"But how is that going to help us find a bed?"

He twisted the slack of the chain in his left hand, holding it up so she could see her handiwork on his arm. She smiled at the sight. He wrapped his right arm around her waist, pulling her back against his chest and she wrapped an arm back around his neck.

"Instead of moving us through time," he said, "it'll move us through space." He gave the chain a firm tug and it shattered, the links falling around them as the world spun away.

Slowly a brightly lit room formed around them. Hermione didn't pay it much mind, focusing instead on the sound Malfoy made when she nibbled his earlobe. She turned around and began pulling off his shirt.

"You changed," she whined.

"You have a thing for Quidditch uniforms?" he chuckled, pulling her bookbag over her head and dropping it carelessly to the floor.

"I did date Viktor."

He growled and one of his hands slid over her thigh, heading for her center. She was surprisingly sensitive through the jeans she wore and fell against him when he drew the seam over her clit.

"Who were you talking about?" he asked.

"No one," she breathed.

He backed her up and she fell back onto the plush bed. She bounced twice, enjoying the high quality of the mattress, and slid her hands over the silky green sheets.

"Like my bed, do you?" he asked, kneeling between her legs and undoing her jeans.

"This is _not_ your dorm," she said, looking to the window. While he worked she pulled off her blouse and reached under her back to undo her bra. She wanted to touch him and be touched everywhere in return.

He stood and she kicked off the jeans and her panties while he pulled his own clothes off. "It's not," he said, falling onto the bed beside her and pulling her to him. She began kissing his chest while he ran his hands over her hips, down her thighs, and back up to her breasts. "It's my room," he added. It took her a moment to remember what they were talking about and she looked up at him curiously. Immediately her eyes settled on his mouth and his answer didn't matter. She kissed him and reached down to touch him.

He gasped, his whole body shuddering. He broke their kiss and buried his face in her neck and hair, holding her tightly to him, not allowing her to move.

"Malfoy?" she asked, concerned by his reaction.

"No," he whispered.

A whine escaped her before she could stop it. Fear grasped her heart in a tight fist. She needed this, needed him. Part of her thought of the book sitting in her bag somewhere on the floor and the answers within but she didn't care. All the logic in the world didn't make her want him any less and she didn't know what she'd do if he actually stopped this now.

He relaxed then, a conscious action on his part as he rolled her over onto her back, kissing his way down to her breasts. "Don't call me that," he said, looking up into her eyes. "Not while we're doing this."

She smiled and ran her fingers through his feather soft hair. "Draco," she said.

He smiled brilliantly. "Hermione."

* * *

><p><em>reviews=love<em>


	6. Chapter 6

**Spring Fever**

Chapter 6

As she left the green flames behind, Narcissa breathed a sigh of relief at being finally home and let her cloak fall from her shoulders. It was immediately caught in the tiny hands of her waiting house-elf.

"Thank you, Nurse," Narcissa said.

Unlike Dobby, who would have left the second he was asked to fold laundry, Nurse was loyal to Narcissa and would only take clothes as a dismissal if they were presented as such. Narcissa had taken the elf into their home after Dobby left. Before that Narcissa had left Nurse to tend the house she grew up in, hoping at first it would go to Bella's child, then perhaps to Draco's younger brother or sister, and now she could only hope to have a second grandchild to gift the house to.

"I'll take a light dinner in the sitting room if you don't mind." It had been a long evening of making nice with Ministry officials and enduring the attentions of unattractive men who thought just because Lucius was out of the picture, that somehow meant she would welcome their advances. She pulled off her traveling gloves and dropped them into the elf's waiting arms, only then noticing the slight shaking in the creature's hands. "Nurse?" she asked, dropping to a knee before her. "What's happened?"

Nurse kneaded her hands, her large ears drooping so they almost covered her lowered eyes. "I is not knowing what to do, mistress," she said hesitantly.

"Nurse," Narcissa said sternly. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Master Draco, mistress, he is using your chain."

Narcissa was out the door in a heartbeat, the elf running to keep up with her mistress.

"He is not hurt! I is checking! Whenever either of them is screaming or yelling I is sneaking in to check!"

Narcissa stopped so suddenly that the little elf ran into her knees and fell back onto the floor.

"Either of who?" Narcissa asked, her voice going cold.

Nurse sniffled sadly. "Master Draco and- and the girl."

Narcissa took a deep, calming breath and then resumed her journey to her son's bedroom. This time her steps were measured instead of frantic. He had used her gift, after she had made him promise only to use it in an emergency, to sneak home for sex? She didn't care if the girl was royalty with a wizarding heritage leading back to Merlin himself, this was out of line. She'd expected some level of rebellion after Lucius was imprisoned, when that never came she thought her boy was growing up. She was glad he was adjusting; even if she hated the turns his life was taking she was proud of how he was handling them. Until now.

"How long have they been here?" she asked when she reached Draco's hallway. They were certainly making quite a bit of noise. Didn't either of them have the decency to put up a silencing charm?

"They is arriving this afternoon, just after one."

Narcissa stopped and turned to the elf. She held back her smile but lifted a questioning eyebrow. It was nearly midnight now. Nurse giggled. Narcissa blew out a breath and went to the door.

"I think you've endured enough of this," she said. Nurse folded her ears down gladly. Narcissa opened the door and glanced inside. She looked at the bed only long enough to ensure it was in fact Draco. Clothes littered the floor, along with the remains of the chain and a book bag.

"_Accio_ chain," Narcissa said, not bothering to lower her voice. The teens didn't seem concerned with anything outside themselves and if they heard her, paid her no mind. She sent the chain links into a nearby vase with a flick of her wand. "_Accio_ bag," she added. The bag wasn't high quality enough to be Draco's and she decided she wanted to learn more about this girl. She closed the door behind her, tossing a silencing charm at it as she went to pick up the vase. "You can leave them be for now," Narcissa said over her should, "but I'd like to be informed when they're finished. Dinner. Sitting room."

Nurse disappeared with a pop and Narcissa headed down the stairs to a less hormone-saturated part of the manor. The chain would take a few days to repair at the least so she set it aside and took a seat in her favorite chair to begin rifling through the bag. A Muggle notebook - already a bad sign - full of timetables for studying and notes on prefect duties.

"Property of Hermione Granger," Narcissa read inside the front cover of the book and promptly shut it. "Oh, Draco," she sighed. A muggleborn was one thing, Harry Potter's best friend was another entirely.

Nurse appeared then with a tray of cold sandwiches and cheeses. She set them on a small side table within Narcissa's reach before disappearing.

Narcissa took one of the small sandwiches and began perusing the notebook. Knowing who the girl was only deepened the mystery. From what Draco had said he and the Granger girl hated one another. He wouldn't have brought her home if this was some wicked ploy to get back at her and her friends - and if Draco was capable of _that_ he would have a lot more to answer for than he did now.

Draco's name was mentioned several times in the notebook, always in his capacity as a prefect, but there was no hint of singling him out. The closest the girl came to showing any preference for him did not become clear until halfway through the notebook. Up to that point Narcissa had wondered which unfortunate child was named "Ferret" but realized when she found notes in which her son's name was used interchangeably with the word that it was a nickname. She stifled a giggle and moved on.

Besides a quill and a few scraps of parchment, the only other thing in the bag was a book from the Hogwarts library. _Perilous Plants_ was a thick tome detailing the dangers of various species of magical plant life. A page near the back, in the section on mandrakes, was bookmarked with a slip of parchment.

"_Imprinting through physical contact - secondary infection possible if exposure is immediate_." Narcissa wondered over the words scrawled hurriedly on the parchment before perusing the page. "Oh no," she sighed, realizing, as Miss Granger had no doubt done before succumbing fully to the effects of her infection, what had happened.

"Nurse!" Narcissa called sharply. The house-elf reappeared, looking worried. "Go to Hogwarts," Narcissa said, "be as discreet as you can. Tell Severus that his two missing students are here and I need to see him _immediately_."

Nurse disappeared once more and Narcissa headed to the Manor library, intent on pulling down every book they had with any information on Spring Fever.

* * *

><p>Draco's first thought when he awakened was that he was warm, which was to be expected given the heat wave of the past few days, but it wasn't stifling and he felt no hurry to escape from the confines of his sheets. He was pleasantly sore nearly everywhere and his left arm was numb. He shifted slightly and felt an echoing motion from the body in his arms.<p>

His eyes flew open. In the dim light of the star chart mural on his ceiling he could see a very naked Hermione Granger curled up in the circle of his arms. Her hands were tucked tight to her chest, her fingers brushing the fine hairs of his chest while she slept. Her head was cushioned by his left arm and their legs were twined together down at the end of the bed, which, he realized suddenly, was not his dorm bed or hers, but his bed at home.

Saturday came back to him in a rush. The _Prophet_ article, the game, the fall, and Granger. She dominated every memory he had of the last twenty-four hours. A small shudder of awareness passed through him. He could definitely stand to do that again.

But _not_ with her. He began slowly extracting himself from her hold. She stretched her legs out when he pulled his away, causing her breasts to press into his chest and her hips to touch his. He froze, not wanting to allow her to affect him anymore. The strange, overpowering desire to own her that had gripped him yesterday was gone, leaving him much more levelheaded. He'd had the girl and now he could be done with her. He wasn't sure now what he'd been thinking. Potter's mudblood? He could do far better.

She nestled closer to his chest as he tried to pull away. He couldn't say for certain why he was so against waking her. Perhaps he just wanted to be dressed, to have that small advantage over her when he kicked her out. But the more he tried to escape the more he wanted to wake her. Every graze of her skin against his, every brush of her hair on his arm, made him want nothing more than to kiss her awake and drive into her again. He had to get away from her.

No longer caring if he woke her up, he pulled away quickly, rolling off the bed and landing in an ungraceful heap on the floor. He popped back up just in time to see her roll into the warm spot he had just vacated. She slid her hands over the sheets the way she'd done his chest and back and arse last night and pressed her face into the pillow, sighing as his scent filled her up. That one little sound had him nearly ready for another go and it took all his willpower to keep from crawling back into bed beside her.

His clothes and hers were gone from the floor and Draco nearly moaned aloud with the realization that Nurse had probably popped in in the middle of things. She'd even come back again, he saw, since he doubted she'd have been randomly carrying a set of witch's robes into his room. He fingered the rich fabric hung over the back of his desk chair, wondering where Nurse had found them. The cut of them seemed a bit dated, like something his mother would have worn once upon a time.

His mother! Did she know he was here? Did she know what he'd done? She must. Nurse wouldn't have kept something like this from her, not when he'd used the- the necklace! Draco fell into a plush reading chair and put his head in his hands. What had he been thinking? He couldn't just sleep with Granger, no, he had to bring her home!

He dragged himself to his feet and began dressing, deciding to face the music sooner rather than later. It was a good thing he did too, as he was just buttoning up his shirt when his mother opened the door.

"Draco," she said. Nurse peeked out from behind her skirts, looking warily from Draco to the bed.

"Mother," Draco said and was very proud of himself for not sounding like the frightened little boy he felt like.

Narcissa swept her skirts aside and said, "It looks as though Miss Granger requires a bit more sleep. Why don't we have this conversation somewhere we're less likely to disturb her?"

Draco felt his heart drop to his knees. Never had he wished his father was home more than he did right now. Discussing his unfortunate decisions about sex with his mother wasn't something he ever wanted to do.

They left Nurse behind and Draco caught sight of the little elf climbing onto the bed.

"What's she going to do?" he asked quietly.

Narcissa looked sideways at her son. "Why do you ask?"

Draco shrugged. "It just seems odd."

However Narcissa took that, she didn't let Draco see. She simply nodded and walked on, leading him downstairs. "Nurse will ensure that the girl is in good health. Should any of your activities have caused her injury, Nurse will tend them, and when the girl awakens there will be a hot bath waiting to ease away her aches."

Draco took note of the underlying message: the mudblood he'd bedded got a bath, he got an uncomfortable talking to. Matters became more uncomfortable when they entered the library and found Snape sitting at a table piled high with books. Draco froze in horror.

"Ah, you're up," Snape said dryly. "And Miss Granger?"

"Asleep still," Narcissa said.

"Good, this will be easier with only one of them."

Narcissa took the only other chair at the table, leaving Draco to stand. "I think she would have been the easier one, it was her book after all."

Snape nodded, his eyes flashing to Draco. "I assume you are aware that your recent actions were not normal?"

"We got a little carried away," Draco said, holding his hands tightly behind his back to discourage himself from fidgeting.

Narcissa looked away, hiding a laugh from her son.

"You got more than 'a little carried away,'" Snape said sternly. "You and Miss Granger have hated each other for years, do you really think you suddenly fell into bed with her because you finally noticed she was a girl?"

"I always knew she was a girl," Draco protested and snapped his mouth shut before the rest of that sentence could get out. _Unlike those two oafs she hangs around with_. He didn't care. She'd been decent in bed - all right, those were the greatest few hours of his young life, but there was sure to be better!

Narcissa pulled one of the books from the pile and slid it towards Draco. He took it, seeing a diagram of an adolescent mandrake.

"One, or both, of you were bitten by a mandrake recently, am I correct?" she asked.

Draco nodded dumbly, unsure where this was headed.

Snape took over. "Such a bite is usually harmless but when you and the mandrake are at comparable levels of physical development it can heighten certain emotions. In adolescents this creates a condition known as Spring Fever, increasing sexual urges and causing those infected to develop a short-lived attachment to the first person they come in heated physical contact with."

Snape paused a moment, allowing Draco time to absorb this information. He really wished they'd saved a chair for him. There were always rumors about this sort of thing - spells and potions that sent already horny students over the edge - you couldn't escape them in a school like Hogwarts, but Draco had never actually believed they were true. He'd been so sure what he was feeling was real, even now he couldn't find anything wrong in his thinking of the past day and a half.

"It _was_ real," his mother said gently, seeing his thoughts on his face. "The fever only increases what you already feel, forcing you to focus all of your sexual desires on one person."

"The question now," Snape said, "is how you were infected. We have already deduced it took place on Friday during your Herbology class but we need to know which of you was bitten."

"Her," Draco said hoarsely. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Her," he said again, more forcefully. "She wasn't wearing her gloves."

"And how were you infected?" Narcissa asked.

Draco pulled his arm from behind his back and angled it so the two adults could see. The marks had faded dramatically in the last few hours but they were still visible against his pale skin.

"I assume you deserved that?"

He nodded, not able to meet his mother's eyes.

"Well," she said, rising, "we shall just have to see how Miss Granger progresses. I think I will go see what Nurse has to say about your lover's health."

Draco cringed to hear his mother say that word. "_Lover_." It was wrong in so many ways. She of all people should not even know such a word and Granger was certainly not his. He glimpsed Snape out of the corner of his eye and found the man shifting uncomfortably in his seat. The realization hit him like a bludger: his mother had left them alone on purpose. Snape, catching Draco's expression, smiled wryly.

"Yes, your mother has asked that I fill in for your father," he said, gesturing to Narcissa's chair. Draco fell heavily into it.

"Do we really have to? I've endured the talk multiple times."

"And yet you brought a muggleborn home just to take her to your bed."

"I was feverish!" Draco grabbed the nearest book and tossed it across the table. "We couldn't think of anywhere to go in Hogwarts! You said yourself we were infected with this- this- whatever it is. It's not like I actually care about her. It was the sickness - which _she_ infected me with by the way. If she'd just been wearing her gloves…"

Snape gave him a firm stare. "I cannot believe that Professor Sprout would allow students your age to handle mandrakes without giving you a refresher on proper safety. I know what happened on Friday." Draco looked away, a shameful blush tingeing his cheeks. "If your reckless and childish behavior was not the cause for that lesson being cut short, then your lack of courtesy is to blame for not helping Miss Granger when you had your gloves and were in no danger from the mandrakes."

Draco closed his eyes at this. He respected Snape almost as much as he did his father. The urge to tell him why he hadn't helped Granger ate at him, but he knew the truth behind his broken fingers would only disappoint Snape more.

"Regardless," Snape said more calmly, "there are more important matters at hand than who is to blame for all of this. Your mother is inclined to keep you both here until the infection releases you-"

"It _has_ released me," Draco pointed out. "I couldn't get away from her fast enough."

"Really?" Snape asked, a small smile tugging at his lips. "A lovely, naked woman in your bed and you weren't the least bit inclined to stay?"

Now Draco's cheeks flamed. His blush deepened with rage when Snape began to chuckle.

"Good," Snape said. "I'd be concerned if you felt absolutely nothing for the girl after the last few hours. And I hope you will not be too eager to return to the way things where. The infection may have released you but Miss Granger is more than likely still under its influence."

"Meaning what?" Draco asked slowly though he could guess at the answer.

"You remember how you felt about her yesterday? The thoughts and emotions which drove you to bring her here?"

"She still feels it," Draco said, slouching under the weight of this news.

"Perhaps more than you did, given that she was the primary infected. Of course it's possible I'm wrong and that your activities of the last few hours will have released Miss Granger as well."

"And if you're not wrong?"

"Then I hope you will treat her with the respect and consideration which you would want in her place. Whatever you're feeling now, be it regret or disgust or something else entirely, will be worse for her when this is over. You have the consolation of knowing she was just as mad as you were throughout, she will not."

Draco ran his hands through his hair, wishing he could wake up in the hospital wing and discover that this was all some mad concussion-induced dream and that the last real thing to happen was Potter pushing him off his broom.

"As I said before," Snape went on, "your mother wishes you both to remain here. I think she has some sympathy for Miss Granger's position, despite her lack of pedigree. Unfortunately we do not have that liberty. The Malfoy loyalties are still under scrutiny and this situation, if brought to light, will force you and your mother to actively take a side."

"I only-"

"Had sex with Harry Potter's best friend, a muggleborn, and brought her to your ancestral home. No, that wouldn't anger the Dark Lord one bit." Draco winced at Snape's biting sarcasm. "And I cannot even fathom what the Order of the Phoenix would think. We will return Miss Granger to Hogwarts as soon as possible."

"And if she's still infected?"

Snape stood and looked down his considerable nose at Draco. "We will cross that bridge when we come to it."

* * *

><p><em>reviews=love<em>


	7. Chapter 7

AN: I'm not going to make any excuses since I'm sure none of you care. I do hope the chapter is satisfying enough to make up for at least some of the wait.

**Spring Fever**

Chapter 7

Fingers, gentle but firm, brushed back Hermione's hair the way her mother had done when she was ill as a child.

"Lovely hair," someone said, sounding very far away. Another voice, higher-pitched, giggled. "What?"

"You is always being fond of hair, mistress," the squeaky voice said. "I remember when master Draco was born you couldn't stop touching his curls. And when you first met master Lucius…" The fingers on Hermione's head stopped. "Oh! Mistress, I is sorry, I did not-"

"It's all right, Nurse." The fingers began again, smoothing Hermione's hair back and lulling her back to sleep.

It could have been mere moments, it could have been an hour, before a harsh voice broke into Hermione's dreams. "You have to understand this, Cissy."

"She's burning up. She's in no condition to go anywhere."

"She can't stay here. She'll recover on her own, possibly even before she wakes." There was a moment of silence and then the harsh voice added, "If her absence is discovered and she is found here, Draco will be in danger."

A heavy sigh. "Fine. Nurse? Dress her."

The air around Hermione shifted and suddenly she was wrapped in heavy fabric instead of the smooth sheets.

"How do you plan on getting her back into the school?"

Hermione's eyes snapped open. The voice made warmth pool in her belly and had her every nerve on edge.

"Draco!" the woman's voice snapped while Hermione searched the dark room for him.

"Like this," a man's voice said. "_Imperio_."

Everything blurred after that. There was green fire and a bed and a potion slipped down her throat. And through it all his voice echoing in her mind. "_Will she be all right?_"

* * *

><p>Parvati and Lavender giggled all the way out the door. When it closed Hermione's eyes snapped open. She'd been in and out of sleep for hours, hoping she could stay in bed until this ache to find Draco abated. She curled into a tight ball, hugging herself against the almost physical pain. She could still feel him: the way his hands caressed her skin like she was a precious gift; his kisses on her lips, her neck, her breasts; the way he'd filled her up and drove her over the edge. She wanted more than memories though, she wanted <em>him<em>.

Once again she almost rose, this time making it to a sitting position on the end of the bed. She gripped the mattress tight and screwed her eyes shut, willing this to stop. They'd both be better off if they let the infection peter quietly out. She thought of him, locked away in the dungeons trying to keep away, and mentally slapped herself. The book had made it clear that a secondary infection wasn't as strong as a primary. Draco had probably recovered by now and would spend all day in the prefects' bath, scrubbing his skin raw to get her mudblood filth off him.

She fell back on the bed with a moan, covering her face with her hands. She should _not_ be thinking about Draco naked right now. And, while she was at it, she should stop calling him "Draco." He was Malfoy again, her rival and antagonist. The sooner she got back to thinking of him as the enemy the better. She went through all the times he'd hurt her, hoping to douse the attraction she felt, but it wasn't long before she got to the slap in third year. The feel of his skin mingled with her dream of two days ago. She writhed on the bed and moisture pooled between her legs. She screamed in frustration and jumped up. She needed to get out. If she was doing something it would distract her from Dra- Malfoy.

She stood on shaky legs. The robes she'd woken up in straightened immediately, the wrinkles disappearing. It was a sign of high quality and she wondered if they belonged to some other girl Draco had bedded. Jealousy flared in her and she quickly stamped it down. _Malfoy_ was not hers. They'd spent one feverish afternoon and evening together and that was all.

She considered taking the robes off but immediately thought better of it. Getting undressed would not help her current mental state one bit and the robes did smell faintly of him. It was enough to drive her mad but also enough to comfort her, just a little.

All at once she decided it was time to leave the room. Sitting there with nothing to do but think of him and how she couldn't go to him was only making things worse. She grabbed her school bag and _Perilous Plants_ from the bag she used for her Head Girl duties, and headed down to the library. She snuck quickly through the common room, thankful that breakfast had already begun, leaving the room nearly empty. Even though her stomach was rumbling, eager for food after a day-long fast, she kept to the upper floors of the castle, heading straight for the library. There was a little alcove at the back, tucked between the Divination and Muggle History sections that she usually kept away from. It was a great study spot but the lack of regular foot traffic made it a little too easy to lose track of the time. Twice while sitting there, she'd found herself studying all night with no idea how the time had flown. This made the alcove undesirable in most cases but perfect for today.

She squeezed into the tiny space and set to work. NEWTs were fast approaching and she'd already lost a day of studying. Potions was first. Snape had put a great deal of emphasis on transformative potions this term, mentioning more than once that they had appeared on the NEWTs every year he'd been teaching. Hermione knew the Polyjuice Potion backwards and forwards and had spent a good deal of time researching the Wolfsbane Potion since realizing what Lupin was, and so ignored those, planning to go over them the night before her Potions NEWT for a quick refresher. She pulled out her notes on glamour potions instead. They were deceptively simple, most using all the same ingredients but with slight variations that determined the use of the potion.

While she read the notes she let her mind drift back to the day she'd written them, going over everything she could remember in case she'd forgotten to write anything down. The top of her notes was an exact copy of the board. Below that were her notes on the lecture and she went quickly through them, remembering Snape's deep voice illustrating the most popular variations.

"You'd think Snape might actually try out a few of these potions," Ron had whispered.

Snape's wrath was immediate, stripping ten points from Gryffindor for Ron's cheek and another ten for each giggle he heard, even those coming from Slytherin students. Hermione ignored all this, her quill flying across her notebook.

"Granger," Malfoy whispered while Snape reprimanded her friends. "I suppose you've been waiting all your life for this lesson. Though I doubt the measurements are the same for trolls."

The nearby Slytherins had laughed, losing more points for Gryffindor.

Hermione closed her eyes, remembering Draco's smile as he laughed and the way a gentler, kinder version of that smile had felt pressed into the curve of her neck last night.

"Argh!" she cried, slamming her Potions notes shut.

She tried History of Magic next. It wasn't a class she shared with Malfoy so there was no way he could intrude on her memories. She lasted an hour before one of Malfoy's ancestor's showed up, slaying a dragon and effectively putting an end to Grawl the Consumer's reign of terror. (Fearsome as the giant was, he wasn't much without his pet dragon.) The combination of a Malfoy and a dragon was too much and Hermione was forced to abandon the subject.

By then it was nearly noon and she was in desperate need of some food. She packed up her things but left them where they were. She wouldn't be gone long and leaving her books behind would decrease the likelihood she'd allow herself to be waylaid. Once again she avoided the Great Hall and snuck down to the dungeons. She was too scattered to talk to any of the kitchen elves about wages or actual clothes and as a result was treated to a huge meal. She staggered out over an hour later, absolutely stuffed. The climb up to the library had never seemed longer with her brain hazy from food and fever. She almost didn't notice someone calling her name.

"Hermione! _Hermione!_"

"What? Oh! Luna!" Hermione stopped in the hallway, her eyes darting up and down it, watching for a certain someone.

"I've been calling you," Luna said, brow furrowed in worry. "Did you fall in the lake recently?"

"What?" Hermione asked, genuinely confused.

"I know a lot of people went swimming to escape the recent heat," Luna said conversationally, walking down the hall. Hermione followed. "I warned them not to. There are brain leeches in magical bodies of water. They suck up all your brain power."

"I didn't swim in the lake, Luna," Hermione said, deciding it wasn't worth it to debate the existence of magical brain leeches. Where had Luna even gotten that from? They sounded like something out of Muggle science fiction.

"Are you headed up to see Harry and Ron?" Luna asked.

"They're still in the hospital wing?" Hermione asked, surprised. No one had even used any magic and if the boy who fell ten stories could walk away without a scratch - and Hermione could attest to that fact - then certainly the others should be fine.

"Are you _sure_ you didn't fall in the lake?" Luna asked. She was walking backwards, her head tilted to the side as she considered Hermione carefully.

Hermione shook herself. She'd gotten momentarily lost in memories of Malfoy's skin, shining with sweat.

"Positive," Hermione said. "Why are the boys still in the hospital wing?"

"Madam Pomfrey says that they've come to depend on her to heal them and a little extra pain and suffering will teach them not to fight."

Hermione couldn't argue with this logic. Healing the Muggle way would certainly teach them all to keep their tempers in check a bit more. It hadn't occurred to Hermione that the Slytherins would be enduring the same punishment and for a moment after entering the hospital wing she was frozen in the doorway, searching to see if Malfoy was visiting as well. He wasn't and she let out a sigh of relief, rushing to catch up with Luna. They each took seats between Ron and Harry's beds, their backs to the Slytherin side of the room. Rain beat gently against the high windows, providing a peaceful background noise for the patients. Hermione hadn't even realized the recent heat wave had ended, not that she was surprised. She hadn't though of much in the last couple days except Draco Malfoy.

"Can you believe this?" Ron demanded. "It's torture is what it is!"

"Muggles do it all the time," Hermione said.

"Only because they don't know any better! She won't even give us anything for the pain except to sleep!"

"Quit your whining, Weasley," Blaise Zabini snapped. "She already said she'd heal us all before classes on Monday."

"Mind your business, Zabini, or I'll give you another black eye."

"And how do you plan on doing that from all the way over there? You can't even walk."

"You just wait until I can, you-"

"Stop it!" Hermione yelled, her temper snapping. "Do you even remember yesterday or why you're still in here? You're supposed to be learning _not_ to fight! Are you honestly so childish that you can't just _let it go_ already? It's been seven years! Is house pride really so important?" When she finished Hermione stood, hands on hips, in the middle of the ward. All eyes were trained on her and, if she wasn't mistaken, several of those watching her were cowering.

"Thank you, Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey said. She stood in the doorway of her office, hands folded demurely and held to her chest. "I could not agree more, though I do question your method."

Hermione blushed to her hairline and sank into her seat. Some small measure of tension had eased with her outburst, though it wasn't nearly enough to give her any relief. She still wanted to run from the room and search the castle for Draco. If it wasn't possibly the most embarrassing medical problem known to man, she might have asked Madam Pomfrey, who was now making her rounds, for help, but with the ward full of Quidditch players who would overhear everything it just wasn't an option. She took a deep breath and forced a smile.

Ron was still sulking and somehow Luna had scooted her chair closer to Harry. He held his hand atop the blankets, but his eyes were fixed on Hermione. She squirmed under his studying gaze. If he asked what was wrong she didn't know what she'd say. Under normal circumstances she could come up with a lie, say NEWTs or some impertinent fourth years had gotten under her skin, but today she was near her wits' end. There was every chance she'd blurt out the truth. "I had sex with Draco Malfoy last night and I feel like I might actually die if I don't do it again soon" was not going to go over well.

"Hermione," Harry said softly, "what's-"

The door swung open and Hermione's head whipped around. She couldn't say how she knew it was him, only that she did. Draco's eyes met hers instantly. For a moment he looked like a deer in headlights before coming back to himself and letting his gaze roam lasciviously up her form. Hermione dug her nails into her knees and tried to focus on the pain rather than the burning desire to run up to him and kiss him senseless. Clearly the fever had run its course where he was concerned. There was nothing left there but his usual disdain for her. She looked away and felt tears form in her eyes. She wasn't sorry she'd lost him - she'd never had him after all - she was only frustrated she couldn't sleep with him again and a little bit sorry he looked like he was going to be using last night against her. Two could play that game - she clutched her stomach against a sudden, wracking pain - but not now.

"I have to go," she said. "I- I left my books in the library."

"Hermione," Harry called but she ignored him. Malfoy had left the door to go to his friends, leaving the way clear for Hermione to escape.

* * *

><p>Draco watched Granger flee, pleasure at making her run warring with despair. He wanted her to stay. He wanted to watch her struggle to keep away from him. He considered calling out to her or loudly making a comment she couldn't ignore, but Snape's earlier words of warning came quickly back to him.<p>

"I am not blind to the feud between yourself and Potter," Snape had said that morning after calling Draco into his office.

Draco rolled his eyes behind the man's back. It had been Snape who instigated the feud. Lucius Malfoy wanted his son to befriend Harry Potter, even after their first two meetings, but Draco knew enough, even at eleven, to see his godfather hated the boy. With his father so far away and his godfather always at Hogwarts, it was easy for Draco to choose which one he would please.

"I can imagine all the ways this particular turn of events might be used to injure Miss Granger's pride," Snape went on, "but I sincerely hope I do not need to tell you how utterly base such behavior would be. Your father set an example among the Dark Lord's forces, refusing to single women out the way others would. I expect his son to show the same respect."

Draco hesitated at that, not sure how to take it. "She's a mudblood," he said. It had been his mantra every time his thoughts drifted back to yesterday. Regardless of what he might have felt while under the fever's influence or any lingering echoes of those feelings now, that immutable fact remained.

Something in Snape's eyes darkened at that. "You know how I feel about that word, Draco. Regardless, she is a young woman whose upbringing is far different than your own - and I do not mean because of her Muggle parents. She no doubt has different expectations in regards to such intimacies."

Of course. That. The conversation, already deeply unsettling, grew more uncomfortable.

"Her emotional reactions to yesterday will no doubt be different from yours."

"She wasn't a virgin," Draco cut in abruptly, deciding to stop Snape right there.

Two bright spots appeared on Snape's cheeks. "Well," he said slowly, shaking off his surprise, "that's … not quite what I meant but it does, perhaps, make things-"

"I was though." He met Snape's gaze defiantly, daring the man to make some comment.

"I'm sorry," was what Snape finally said.

Draco scoffed. "I'm not some girl," he sneered, "it was about time anyway. Though I admit I'd prefer someone better than that-"

Snape held up a hand. "Don't. And that is exactly what I meant so you can stow the attitude." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "If you need to talk I suppose you will have to come to me," he said with some resignation. "But do try not to be an idiot. She might still be ill and the last thing she needs is you making this harder. Women, especially Gryffindor women, hold long grudges. If you hurt her now, she'll destroy you later."

Draco had brushed most of this off at the time, too disturbed by the whole mess to really listen. This had been all her fault. If she'd just worn her gloves, if she hadn't bloody _scratched_ him, if she hadn't been bouncing around so he just couldn't help but hex her… He deserved some revenge.

"You're staring again," Blaise said.

Draco looked down at his friend and found him smiling smugly up at him. "Don't start," Draco warned.

"What? Suddenly you're back to your normal prick self?"

For a moment Draco considered telling Blaise everything. A glance around the ward told him that was a bad idea, there was no way he could tell Blaise all that had happened without it being overheard and he wasn't keen on spreading the word of his embarrassing ordeal.

"Shut up," was all he said as he fell into the chair beside Blaise's bed.

"Uh oh. Trouble so soon? She realize you really are everything you appear? Usually you manage to keep up the deeper-than-a-puddle façade for a few weeks at least."

"Shut. Up."

Blaise gave Draco a measuring look. "All right," he said slowly. "Pomfrey's letting us out tomorrow. I don't know what you were planning but I think we should have team study sessions so we can practice and study for NEWTs more efficiently. If you spread word around the dungeons we might get the others to join in. They're desperate for a win and heaven knows Vince and Greg could use the help."

Draco nodded. He'd forgotten the make up match - they didn't have a date yet, of course - as well as NEWTs and the impending end to his education. He'd forgotten everything and thought only of her. It had to be the same for her now. He smirked, imagining the little mudblood consumed with thoughts of him.

Seeing the look on his face Blaise said sternly, "Whatever it is, if it's not about winning the match, I don't want to know."

"Old man," Draco griped.

"_Wise_ old man."

"Wise, _boring_ old man. What's wrong with a little plotting?"

"Nothing. Except I know that look and it's the one you get when you're thinking about Potter and his friends. Considering the last few days you're probably thinking of getting back at Granger for whatever it is you won't talk about and I do not want to be a part of that. So run along, find her, and commit this atrocity before I get out of here. That way my Gryffindor can't blame me."

Draco shook his head in what was only mostly mock shame. "She's got you on a tight leash."

Rather than respond, Blaise dismissed Draco with a wave of her hand. Had he been anyone else Draco would have sworn revenge but, as his friend, Blaise could get away with more than most.

On his way out Draco threw a smile in Potter's direction. The Gryffindor nearly jumped up but restrained himself as the door to Madam Pomfrey's office clicked open. Draco chuckled as the Weasel, glaring daggers at him, leaned over to ask Potter what was up. Draco almost wished he could stay and hear that conversation, but he did want to find Granger. If he was lucky she'd see him in a crowded corridor and be unable to keep her hands off him. She'd run up to him and kiss him without so much as a "hello." The fantasy was supposed to end with him pushing her off and crushing her in front of the crowd but he somehow got bogged down in the kiss.

The door to the hospital wing shut heavily behind him, the sound shocking him back to himself. It was the fever, surely, that had made her seem like a good kisser. She probably slobbered like a dog. He shuddered and went to the window at the end of the hall to consider where she might have gone. Fate, it seemed, was on his side. Just like Hermione had seen him flying out this same window the day before, Draco caught sight of a dark figure racing through the rain towards the distant forest. He was certain, without knowing why, that it was Granger, running scared. If she thought he was going to give her space, make this easy for her, she had another thing coming.

He ran down the winding staircases, shooting an "_accio_ cloak" over his shoulder once he reached the ground floor. The cloak, charmed to keep out the wet and cold, came flying up from the Slytherin dungeons just before he burst out the doors. The grass was slick, forcing him to slow down or fall on his arse like an idiot. The rain, while still light, was growing steadily heavier. Storm clouds were gathering overhead, turning the grey day black. He caught sight of Granger entering the forest just as it came into view and picked up his pace. He'd sworn in second year never to enter that forest again but told himself now that Granger wouldn't go too deep and that the promise of retribution was worth a bit of a scare. Perhaps he could even give her one.

The darkness amid the trees was almost palpable. Only ten steps into the forest Draco could see his breath misting before him. The falling rain echoed oddly through the trees, that combined with the closeness of the trees left him feeling at once claustrophobic and alone in a vast space.

Granger's location did not immediately reveal itself. She was nowhere to be seen and he couldn't hear her through the rain. He cursed under his breath and tried to remember if he knew any tracking spells. None came to mind but he did spot a muddy footprint while he wracked his brain.

"Come out, come out wherever you are," he murmured. He pulled the hood of his cloak up and set off through the undergrowth, not bothering to keep quiet. The rain was pouring down by the time he found her, standing atop a rocky mound inside the tree line and overlooking one of the lake's outcroppings.

"Please," she said when he came to the edge of the rocks, "I told you, I can't think when you're around."

He almost stopped, almost took Snape's advice to back off and leave her be, but then it hit him that she looked like a half-drowned alley cat swept ashore by the waves and he was filled with cruel mirth. "And why is that?" he asked jovially, coming up behind her.

Her robes were soaked and water dripped from her hair in a waterfall down her back. Her arms were wrapped tight around her middle and as his footsteps neared she curled in on herself, as if bracing for a physical blow. Her profile was stretched taut in pain.

"You know," she said quietly. "You _know_."

It was suddenly stifling under Draco's cloak. His hand, without his prompting surely, touched her back just below the fall of her hair. He watched as a shudder ran through her and her head fell back.

"_Please_," she said, eyes closed and face lifted to the heavens. He wasn't sure if she was talking to him or some deity.

His hand twisted in the hair that had fallen back to surround it. The image of her the night before passed before him: naked, skin shining in the dim light, her voice crying out in release. He could give her that release again. It would be a mercy, really; he knew what this felt like. She would thank him in the end and she was begging for it after all.

"Please go," she said and the fire in him chilled. Even the magicked cloak couldn't keep him warm now. Cold anger replaced arousal and was swept away just as quickly by an emotion he didn't dare name. Not willing to ponder it, he instead gave into it fully. He opened his cloak and pulled Granger to his chest, wrapping her in the charmed fabric and his arms. She crumbled when he touched her and the only thing keeping them upright was his own strength. Heat poured off her through the sodden fabric. She was burning up.

Only twice in the following hours did she try to turn. He held her tight each time. When she changed tactics and moved against him, using her bum to tease his crotch, it took all his willpower to hold her tighter, nearly suffocating her to keep her still.

It must be the infection, he thought when her sobs petered out and he was certain she finally slept. He must still be affected to be doing this. He lifted her into his arms, cradling her against his chest as he made his way back through the dark and muddy woods to the castle.

* * *

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